A/N Thank you for reading. This story is the brain child of my beta (and co-conspirator on this story) Lilgray26. Love you honey!

A/N I am not abandoning my other stories. I am just jazzed on this one right now. Lilgray26 put the bug in my ear and I am off like a shot.

This story will be shorter than my others (I know - you have heard that before) but I promise – we are already talking sequels to this.

It is a total E/S love story. You all know I love me some ESN!

So in saying that – this is a total NC-17 no one under 18 should be reading. You have been warned. There will be some angst but nothing to too dark (well, per my standards). But Eric is coming out to play and you know what that means…..

So thanks again for giving this a shot.

I own nothing but the plot.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2 – Take My Breath Away

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"Okay, Sookie." Amelia says. "Pam says you have an appointment this afternoon at 2pm." She smiles. "Are you sure you want to do this?" She asks me.

I nod. "I'm expected to know how to do this." I shrug as I check my hair one last time. It's just before one and I need to get going. I run into my studio and grab my slippers. Pam suggested I take both my slippers and a pair of heels.

"Ones that wrap around your ankle," she told me.

So I grab a pair of tan ones that I have with an open toe. I still have several dance sets and grab two to make sure I have something to wear. Looking in the mirror again, I think of choosing my outfit for the day.

In my very large walk in closet, I have two types of clothes; the Compton Approved attire and the Sookie approved attire. The Compton approved attire are a lot of a-line dresses and pastel suits, silk slacks and sweater sets. Mostly very refined and 'proper' attire according to Elizabeth Compton and most of the outfits have been purchased by her or with her approval. Some of the outfits look more appropriate for a 40 year old socialite than a 25 year old writer. She even went so far as to purchase me a pill box hat and gloves for one function. I looked like a blonde Jackie O.

The other side of the closet, which contains Sookie approved clothes is where I found today's outfit. These clothes include dresses, albeit a little shorter and brighter than Elizabeth would regard proper; tight shirts and dancing clothes, club dancing clothes. Day attire consists of some dresses, jeans, t-shirts, tunics, shorts and workout clothes. The shoes can be anywhere between flip flops to five inch heels and boots, basically the attire of a healthy happy 25 year old. Sadly in the last year that Bill has been campaigning, I haven't been able to don most of my wardrobe. But today is different. I grabbed a pair of boy shorts style yoga pants, and a tank top and threw on an open tunic over the top and a pair of gold and copper flip-flops to finish the outfit. I pulled my hair up in a high ponytail and finished my look with some light makeup. I think I look fresh and clean. I want to make a good impression on my dance instructor.

"Sookie, you don't have to do this, you know?" She says to me.

I nod. "I know. But if I don't I'll never hear the end of it."

"Okay, just remember, Bill Compton is not the only fish in the sea."

I nod again. I know this. I just don't know what to do anymore. I made a promise to go to this Gala. I already changed my life around to be able to attend. But I have a feeling that this will be the last horse and pony show Sookie Stackhouse saddles up to attend.

I've been back from New Orleans for a few days and have tried to catch up with most of my friends. Just a few days and I'm starting to feel like my old self again. A few days but it feels like a lifetime.

I spent yesterday morning at my brother's office to set everything up for the help he hired. He came in a few hours after I got there, apologizing that Crystal wanted him to stay a little longer this morning. I can't blame him. He's being a great husband while his beautiful wife is on bed rest with their twins. Tara has been working hard trying to make a go of her shop and I have been her practice dummy for her new clothes. I spent until the wee hours this morning working and have been making headway with my book and Amelia is happy with the changes I made to the last few chapters. So the fact that I haven't spoken to Bill is not a surprise in the least. In fact, I don't expect to hear from him until closer to the Gala. Even though he told me he would call me this week sometime, I suspect Lorena will keep him too busy. It's no secret that she also finds me lacking in some way. Funny how the people I've surrounded myself with since birth, don't find anything wrong with me. Well, other than the fact that I'm dating Bill. Which, am I really dating him? Wouldn't that mean that we actually see each other more than once a month?

I sigh and shake my head. No matter what I think, I made a promise to him. This is important and he needs the Gala to hit the political scene by storm. I guess I owe him that. But for the life of me, I can't remember what I owe him for.

I have, however, heard from his mother that he is expecting me to be 'ready' for this Gala.

"Sookie," she says with little levity, "I hoped you would send me pictures of your dress by now. We need to plan, color, style, lighting, this all takes time. If you stayed put, you would have been well versed in what needs to be done. But alas, we need to rely on doing this by phone calls."

I snicker a little. Is it bad that I get enjoyment out of her trying to make me feel guilty for being home in my own life? Yeah that's what I thought.

"Elizabeth, the dress is going to be red." I say to her.

"RED. Oh, oh no…you can't wear red. You are young and unmarried. Oh, no…this is a disaster. No, I told you yellow. Yellow is perfect for Bill's coloring." She says to me.

"Well, I will see what I can do, but I think red will be perfect." I say to her.

It isn't that I'm trying to be difficult. Okay, I'm trying to be difficult. But yellow looks horrid on me, unless I have a full golden tan and I don't think I can pull that off in time. Besides, Bill is so pale, I would look very dark next to him.

"Fine, tell me when it's changed." Elizabeth spits out. "Do I get to know if it is long or short?"

I roll my eyes. I seriously need to put this relationship under a microscope. I'm not sure why I continue.

"Sookie, hon," Amelia says to me. "You can find better, you know you can. He doesn't even encourage your writing. I mean does he KNOW what kind of following you have?" She asks.

I shrug. In truth, I know he doesn't have a clue. He hasn't wished to discuss my books or their popularity. He hasn't wanted anything to do with them and usually shies away from any discussion about them. In truth, I dare say he doesn't even know the names of them.

"He has enough on his plate." I say to her.

"Sook, I know how much you hate politics. I'm not sure you can name five members of the Senate, not to mention the State reps. Why are you doing this to yourself? You are much more at home in your gardens then at a garden tea?" She asks.

I know she is my friend and I love her for what she's doing. But now isn't the time to talk about this.

"Look, Am, I know what you're saying and you're right. I just can't end it when he's across the country. I have to wait until he gets back." I say to her.

"And when he does he will put demand upon demand on you until you can't find the right time to talk to him." She crosses the office to me. "Sookie," she places her hands on my shoulders, "do you even like the man?"

I look down at the floor. It's true, when we started dating I thought him very old world and charming. But that got old when I found out that the charm is really stuffiness. He quickly got me to give up dancing and going out. He was hesitant to be with my friends, which stopped me from being with them. Instead of playing in the garden, I was suddenly at garden teas with his mother. Instead of searching vintage shops for the perfect blouse, I was in Sax's and designer shops picking out clothes that would look more at home on Gran than on me. By the time I realized that I was losing myself, I didn't know how to get out of it.

I look up at my friend. "I'm not sure I like who I am with him."

"Then get out. Get out now." She moves back from me.

"I will, I just…I can't do it when he's away." I go to pick up my bag. "Let me just get this damn Gala out of the way and I will end it. He can have his endorsement and he won't need me." I say.

Amelia, knowing me the way she does, made no further comment on the subject. She knew it was futile to argue with me.

I leave my home with Amelia and drop her back at her office in Shreveport to make my way to Fangtasia. I know, funny right? But it's one of the hottest clubs around and just so happens to be the site for the Northman Dance Studio during the day. Pam is a wonderful dancer. She even went to Julliard. But after an accident her second year, she knew her days as a professional dancer were over. Her brother and she own the club and the studio. All I know about her brother is that he's a professional dancer and travels a bit. In the three years Pam and Amelia have been together, I don't think I've ever met him. When he's been in town, I've been on my book tour or in New Orleans. From what Amelia tells me, the place is really THE place to be.

I pull up to the building and I'm in awe. It really is an architectural masterpiece, pulling together old world charm with modern lines and the use of windows. I know from speaking with Amelia that the club is multilevel. On one side of the building is the main club area, with open ceilings all the way to the top floor. Three sides of the interior have cat walks from which you can look down onto the dance floor below. She also said that on the other side of the building is a glass wall going up the rest of the 5 floors. The second is a private VIP area. The third is offices. The fourth is the dance studio and the 5th is a private studio and loft area. It sounds spectacular.

I sit there for a moment looking at the building. Something about it is riveting. I can't place it but it feels familiar. I wonder who designed such a work of art. But the thoughts of the designer are quickly replaced with my anxiousness to learn a new dance. And if I'm really being honest with myself, I always wanted to dance more than anything. I mean all those dancing shows and competitions on TV. Plus I always wanted to learn how to dance like Ginger Rogers. Fly around the room in the arms of my Fred Astaire. Looking deep into his eyes and knowing that he will lead me, spin me and never let me go; feeling safe, warm, and loved by those arms.

Okay, yeah, I'm a romantic and Bill is well, Bill.

I look at my watch and notice that it's just before two. I make my way from my car with bag in hand to the front door. I pull on it but it's locked, so I move around to the back, hoping that someone will let me in. When I get there, I see a very tall, blonde man with a tank on pulling boxes from a delivery truck. I look at his back and pray to God, Buddha and anyone else who is listening that this godlike man is my dancing instructor. I shake my head slightly. What would my dance instructor be doing pulling a delivery off a truck? I'm not that lucky. This cross between Hercules, Adonis and the statue of David is so far out of my league, I have no right to be entertaining thoughts about him. And I haven't even seen his face.

Deciding I need to find Eric and get this show on the road, I pull up my big girl panties and walk toward him.

"Excuse me?" I say as he turns around. I gasp when I see him in full view. He literally takes my breath away.

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EPOV

I sit in my office going over the books. I truly love my sister, but she can literally drive me crazy. She loves the club and the studio, but she has a terrible time keeping track of the books. I lean back in the chair wondering why I don't just grab all this stuff and do it at home.

Oh right, I promised to teach her friend to dance. I shake my head. God, I hate this. I want to be back on the circuit. The next competition is in 5 weeks and my partner had to up and leave me just when we were getting ready to take the title away from the leaders. I hate even saying their names. I can't stand either of them and I was so looking forward to taking the title away from them.

Felicia and I had been together for 6 years. Four of those we were a couple. The last two were strictly professional. So when she decided that she wanted to get married, I couldn't understand why she needed to leave our partnership. Until she also told me she was pregnant. Well, hell. There you go.

But I couldn't really blame her for wanting a life. I want one too. I thought I found it in her. But I couldn't move it forward. I was just stuck. I thought we were happy the way things were. She never complained and never gave me reason to think that we were anything but happy. That is until I found her in bed with Maxwell Lewis, our costume designer. That effectively finished our personal relationship. But I was willing to forego any bitterness for the sake of our professional relationship. I would be the better man. Maxwell didn't see it that way and wanted her to quit right off. It took him knocking her up to get her to concede. I guess they both got what they wanted in the long run.

Now, I am sitting in the office, pulling paperwork out of every drawer waiting on a woman that needs to learn how to ballroom dance in five weeks. Five WEEKS! Hell, I could teach her to dance in two and be done with her. Pam isn't even charging her. The woman is best friends with Amelia, which means, to Pam, she's family and you don't charge family. How she makes any money, I have no idea.

I have never met Sookie Stackhouse, but I've heard about her. She writes Vampire books that are so popular these days. I actually read one on my last trip to New York. She's a really great writer. But I've never seen her. There isn't even a picture of her on the jacket. Amelia said there was a story behind that and I have to admit it makes me curious. All I know is that her soon to be fiancé (Pam told me that with a wince) needs her to learn to ballroom dance for some Gala he needs to go to in New Orleans. He is some mucky muck. I have to admit; that Pam and Amelia associate with someone like this has me concerned. I mean neither of them cares about money or position. From the sounds of it, this Sookie and her man are all about the social elite. How did she become friends with Amelia anyway?

Now William Compton, Jr. I have seen. He is running for Senate. They say he is 35 but he looks more like he is 40 or older. He is very stoic and proper.

I can only imagine what his girlfriend looks like. She is probably one of those debutant girls from New Orleans with big teeth and knobby knees. How am I going to get through this?

"Eric, she just needs to know enough to get through one dance." Pam said to me the other night. "Please, she's a really good friend to Amelia and me. She said she always wanted to learn to dance but she is really afraid she is going to make a fool out of herself at that damn Gala!" Pam huffs. I get the impression that Pam is not too fond of this Compton fellow.

"I mean, I don't know why she is going. It isn't like they spend any time together." Amelia interjects. "He didn't think it proper to take her on the campaign trail. Not that Sookie wanted to go. But still, I can see how he leaves her behind all the time."

All Amelia said to me after that was that she had known Sookie for a real long time and that not everything is as it may seem. And that if Sookie wanted me to know she would tell me. I smile when I think of her name again. It's really fun to say. Sort of sounds like Cookie. But if she is some high society snob, these lessons will be quick and to the point. I will teach her enough to get her through her little party and be done with it. I really have no time for this. I need to find a new partner and fast.

I shrug. If my image of her is correct, maybe he really doesn't want anyone to see her.

Anyway, I am about to go get the studio ready when I hear the buzzer at the back door. I look at the clock. It is only one. She can't be here yet. I told them two. I huff and make my way down to the door.

I open it to see a delivery truck.

"Delivery," he says.

Great, Pam didn't tell me about this either. "Okay, you can put them in the storage room." I say to him.

"No can do pal." He says to me. "Company rules, I don't unload."

"What?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "My partner unloads and he called out sick today. So unless you want to wait another week for this shipment, you will need to unload it yourself.

I huff. "Fine." I say as I pull off my silk shirt. I don't want to get it messy. I'm glad I always wear two shirts.

Just as I am pulling off the last case I hear someone behind me.

"Excuse me." I hear a young woman say.

I turn around to tell her I will be with her in a moment when I see the most beautiful face. It's one of an angel. I close my eyes for a moment and open them to make sure that I'm not dreaming. It's like everything has faded away and all that is left is the vision in front of me. Her hair is the most golden blonde I have ever seen and her eyes the color of a clear fall day. I allow my eyes to trail down to her perfect petite body. When I return to her eyes she looks just as stunned as I am.

"ummm," she says, "I'm Sookie Stackhouse. I'm looking for Eric?"

This…THIS is Sookie Stackhouse? Oh God in heaven, kill me now and send me to heaven because I have seen all I need to in my lifetime. This woman can take the breath away from rooms full of people. Why does she think she would embarrass herself at that fucking Gala? She will send people into shock just with her mere presence.

"Ummm, could you tell me where I can find him?" She asks.

Then I remember that I haven't said anything. That's right Eric, you're suppose to talk to the pretty girl. There you go, open your mouth and say something.

"I'm Eric." I say to her. "Go on in, I'll be with you in a moment."

She smiles at me and goes to walk inside. That smile is amazing. If I could see that smile every morning when I wake up for the rest of my life, I would be a very lucky man.

WOW, Eric pull it back. She has a boyfriend, soon to be fiancé. You know, as in marriage. You don't do marriage. That is why Felicia found Max, remember. You have those nasty commitment issues.

I huff my inner voice away. I want Sookie and I don't care what I need to do to make it happen. Mark my words, before the five weeks are out, Sookie Stackhouse will be mine, in every way.

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SPOV

I walk into the back of the club but I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go so I head out into the main room. I look around and feel the energy in the room. It's exactly the way Pam and Amelia described it. God it must be a sight to see when it's in full swing. But I can feel the heart beat. The rhythm of the room, it's completely electrifying.

Pam is so proud of it and the dance studio. She even has her students (the ones old enough) come down and do little shows for the patrons from time to time.

I close my eyes thinking about what it would be like to dance for other people. To hear them applaud and know it's because of how I'm making them feel. I always thought I was happy at home in front of my computer, writing my stories and putting my feelings and imagination on paper. But just the thought of dancing is making me almost giddy. I haven't felt this pull since my last recital. I want to dance. I know it in my bones.

That thought makes me happy and sad. Because the last few years should have been the happiest of my life, and yet, I'm more taken with standing in this empty club than I have been at any dinner, party or gathering in New Orleans.

"Are you ready to begin, Ms. Stackhouse?" I hear behind me.

I turn around to see the god of a man standing in half shadow and all I want to do is run over to him and wrap my arms and legs around him, pulling him as close to me as possible. Oh WOW! Did I really think that?

Oh God, I'm in so much trouble.

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EPOV

I walk in to find this goddess of a woman but she isn't in the back. She isn't in the hall or near the storage rooms. God, please tell me she didn't leave. I will find her if she did. I don't care who thinks they have a hold on her. I will show her. I have to. God damn it. I never even felt this way for Felicia. I have never felt this way, ever and I have only spoken a handful of words to her.

It is like I lost something and suddenly found it. Like my life is now, what complete? God could I be any more of a sap? But the way she makes me feel, I can't ignore it. If I do, I will never get back the passion, lust and desire that once lived in my dancing. Yes, Sookie Stackhouse is my muse. She is my reason to dance, my reason to breathe; to continue to go on, to live life to its fullest.

I walk into the main room to see her standing in the middle of the dance floor with her eyes closed, swaying back and forth to a silent tune. I know that look. I know that feeling. I had it the moment I stepped foot onto a dance floor, years ago. Pamela had it the moment our mother handed her her first pair of dance slippers. It is the look of longing. I see the look of need, the pull of the dance and song. The need for it is just like your need to move. You need to dance.

Sookie has this passion. Now all I have to do is get her to understand she will no longer be able to live without it. I think I have found my new dance partner. I don't even need to see her dance. She has the passion and desire. The steps will come.

But I have to be smooth about this. I need her to fall in love with the idea without her knowing it. I need her to not be able to live without it before I ask her to dance with me. I need her to fall in love with my arms around her and quite possibly she will give me her heart while she gives it over to the dance. Maybe, just maybe I will finally find my life.

I am not stupid. Nor am I a cynic, much. I believe in love. I believe in passion. I'm a ballroom dancer for God's sake. I've just never found it. I can fake it really good. But up until now, I thought that kind of love, passion, desire and want were going to be lost on me. I've had fleeting moments; the thrill of a one night stand, the passion in a moment, but nothing like this. Perhaps this is the same? Maybe after I hold her, bed her, kiss her, touch her, the desire will be gone. God I hope not. To never feel this intense desire again will be my undoing.

I try to clear my throat to get her attention but she's lost in thought. I wonder if she's thinking of me.

"Are you ready to begin, Ms. Stackhouse?" I say in my most commanding voice I can muster at the moment.

She turns around and I can see the glow of the lights on her skin. I can see the sparkle in her eyes. Yes, she was born to dance. And in this very moment, she has taken my breath away.

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SPOV

Speak Sookie, say something.

"Oh, um…yes…I uh, I'm sorry. I wasn't sure where I needed to go." I say.

"That's fine." He says. "If you'll follow me, we can get started."

I smile as he raises his arm to motion me to come with him.

I follow along as he takes me to the little elevator hidden in the corner and we make our way up to the studio.

Once in, Eric flips on the light and I see a very large room that reminds me of the practice rooms I spent so many hours in as a child. It is really about twice the size of mine at home. But I am only one person. This is used to teach Ballroom and modern. Pam said that it's too painful for her to do ballet any longer so she doesn't offer it.

Amelia has actually tried to get me to come in and teach. But up until now, I haven't had the time. Maybe I could find it. If…well…we'll see.

Eric turns his back to me and starts fiddling with the music. I quickly pull out my slippers and heels and take off my flip flops and start to warm up at the bar. Since I don't know where we're going to start, I will simply wait for him to tell me.

"Ms. Stackhouse, first I am going to teach you how to warm…" I look up and see him staring at me in the mirror. I smile slightly but the look is curious.

"I…I'm sorry, I was just warming up." I say as I make my way to a grand plie.

He looks from me to my shoes then back at me. "You dance?" He asks.

I look at him and I can feel my face go red. I turn to face him and go up on the balls of my toes to warm up my calves.

"I…hmmm, well, I do, sort of…that is to say…." He moves closer to me and my thoughts get all muddled.

"Ms. Stackhouse, I was not informed you had a base of the art." He says softly. God could he get any sexier.

I lower myself. "I'm sorry, I thought Amelia would have told you." I sigh. I pull up my big girl pants and try to make myself sound intelligent. "I've danced since I was four years old, ballet and a year or two of modern thrown in for good measure. I stopped taking classes when I was 12." I say softly. "But I've always practiced. I was even allowed to work with the younger children and use the facilities until I went to work at 18. I also taught myself the Tango, the Mambo and a little of the Cha-Cha." I laugh.

"You…taught yourself?" He asks me.

"Well, yeah, I watch all the dancing shows and I've done a little research on the internet. But I mean I can figure out the choreography on the shows. So I try some of the steps, you know?" I shrug.

"Then why haven't you taught yourself to waltz?" He crosses his arms.

"Well," I look down, "it's like trying to teach myself the Tango and the Mambo. You really need a partner, you know?"

He takes a step closer to me. "And your boyfriend won't be your partner?" He asks me.

I have to let out a laugh. Bill do anything passionate, please. I mean his idea of romance is letting me take the time I need to be at some gathering.

I look up to see him looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "Umm, sorry…well, yeah, um there isn't anyone for me to learn those kinds of dances with." I say to him. How do I tell a man that is sex on legs that my boyfriend is a cold fish?

Yeah and why am I with him again.

I turn away from him to go back to warming up. I take a chance and look up to see Eric looking at me again.

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EPOV

I can't believe what she is telling me without telling me. This woman is just something else. And I don't think it will be hard for me to make the boyfriend history.

Again, she's taking my breath away. She has passion. Look at the dances she's tried to teach herself. And she's fun. She wants to Cha-Cha. Hell, I will teach her how to Cha-Cha and Tango and Samba and anything else she wants to learn. I will show her how to make love on the dance floor and bring her partner and her to new heights. All I have to hear is the word yes, and I will take her there. All I need is for her to yield to me. I will show her passion she has only dreamed of.

I couldn't believe I was seeing her standing there going through the warm ups of a ballerina. I have watched Pamela for years and I can tell you that the moment Sookie stepped up to the bar, her entire body changed. She looked confident, alive and full of life. Not that she didn't before, it was just, well, more. And I can tell you right now. More Sookie is a very very good thing.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing as she looked up through the mirror at me. Put wings on her and she would have been an angel.

She has fire in her eyes. I can see it. Someone is trying to kill it. But I won't let them. She is too pure, too good, too perfect to have anyone hold her back. I want to teach her. I want to show her what she can be and watch her fly. I can do that. I want to see her spin through the room and have every person made mute by the shear vision of her. I want every person in the room to want her and I want her to be all mine. I want that feeling, I want Sookie.

I try to shake myself out of my thoughts. "Okay, Ms. Stackhouse…"

"Sookie," she says interrupting me.

"Excuse me?" I ask her.

"Umm, please call me Sookie." She says to me as she blushes again. I wonder how far it goes down.

"Okay, then please call me Eric." I say. "Let's get started. I am going to take you through some moves and we'll see what we have here." I say to her.

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A/N So tell me what you think? You ready for ready for more Eric?

Song for this chapter – Take my breath away by Berlin - http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=8KS-UswccMU

Yummy!

Next chapter will be up tomorrow – it is already with my wonderful Lilgray26!

Happy Columbus Day weekend